I am so sorry that I have been out of touch for so long. 2013 was the year from hell for me. I was pregnant and was in and out of the hospital for the first five months with hyper nemesis (where you cannot keep any food down what so ever-I ended up loosing over 30 lbs by the time I delivered). Also my mom died about ten days before my baby was born (Little Gabriel a.k.a. my angel). So please forgive me for putting the story on the back, back, back burner for a while. Also I started a new job where I get to work for myself that I simply adore and has been so much fun to get up and going but now that I have a little more time, I plan on getting back into writing after my little hiatus.

"I love you." He leaned into kiss me before I had a chance to reply. I savored his taste even more, hoping, but yet knowing it would not get me through.

"I love you, too."

And then he left, but not before having the windows down and screaming, "I'll see you in a month, almost Bella Cullen."

I giggled to myself as Rose came outside to escort me back into the house. "Ready for the fun to begin?" she asked sarcastically.

Ugh.

I had no idea there were so many things to do for a wedding. If any normal person had any sense going in, they would rethink their strategy and just go elope. Needless to say that I was not even allowed a day to get used to the idea of being engaged. By lunch time, the entire first floor of my parents' house looked like some type of wedding grenade had blown up. In attendance were three wedding planners, a whole slew of stylists, all of Edward's publicists, Esme's personal travel consultant, a half dozen florists and Vera Wang's lead dress fitter to measure me for my virtual fitting with the designer that was scheduled at promptly one-o'clock.

It was decided to have even more venues booked for the wedding in the off chance that the paparazzi got wind of the main event. Six different destinations, the first three to be leaked within the first two weeks to allow for a little more breathing room for Edward and me. With all the wedding planning as a distraction, it almost made Edward's first day gone a little more bearable. I did not even get to talk to him until almost eleven that night, when I finally found time to sit down and scarf down a piece of pizza. He was evidently worn out, given that it was two in the morning in New York.

Our conversation was short. He talked about the flight and how Alice had beaten him at a few hands of poker and instead of taking him for a few thousand, she conned him into being co-honeymoon planner. At least she would be bothering him and not me.

I went over all the wonderfully exciting details of the planning session.

Needless to say, he noticed the sarcastic enthusiasm in my voice. "Bella, this is too much for you. We can put it off until a few months from now. I mean I wanted to marry you as soon as humanly possible, but if this is going to stress you out this much–we can wait."

I sighed, knowing that he was right. All of this right now was overwhelming me more than I wanted to admit. But it gave me a wonderful idea; one that I hoped he and everyone that I cared to know would understand. After a short discussion with him, and a few concessions on both sides, he vehemently agreed that it would be the best scenario for the two of us.

Now I just had to set our plan in motion without the ones needing-to-know until the last possible moment. The only problem was I had less than four days to pull it off. All I could think was that I needed to thank the good Lord above for whoever created Skype. And a best friend by the name of Kate–who could perform even the largest of miracles with the smallest amount of time imaginable.

I was up until almost five in the morning working out all the kinks to the plan. Luckily Kate was on board a thousand percent. I hated putting so much pressure on her to help me pull it off, but if anyone could–Kate could. By the time we hung up, she had everything ready for the day that she had to accomplish. But first she had to convince Garrett, Alice and Jasper, that she was deathly ill and could not accompany them to the Vanity Fair interview– just to keep up the charade on her end. I on the other hand, only had three hours to get any sleep before I had several caterers and chefs arriving to go over different menu choices.

Just going through the motions. That was my new motto.

Wake up time came far too early. "Wakey, wakey, Princess." Rose pulled the cover off of my body and onto the floor.

"Ugh…Too early." I slapped at the air above me. "Go away," I groaned.

"I can't. We are on a strict time schedule and you will mess up the whole day if you don't get your ass downstairs and start making some decisions…on something…anything!"

I told Edward about what had happened last night before Rose and Esme had become so frustrated with me. Esme kept huffing and puffing while talking under her breath all evening. Rose on the other hand, started becoming belligerent and had to be told by our mother to step outside and cool off on more than one occasion. They were under strict orders by Edward not to just take over; that every decision had to be made by me. The only thing that was accomplished yesterday was the fake wedding arrangements–the publicists had that all figured out before they had even shown up. So for better than eight plus hours all anyone heard me say was: "hmmm…maybe," or "I don't know."

And here was the start of day two from hell. Well maybe more like purgatory since Alice wasn't here micro-managing the whole event.

Rose must have noticed me spacing out from all my interior thoughts and started threatening. "I swear, Isabella. Get up now, or so help me God, I will get Alice back here on the first flight from New York."

"You wouldn't."

Her feigned smile meant she was not messing with me anymore. "Just keep it up." She threw me some clothes on her way out. "You have five minutes."

When I finally made my way downstairs, all I could smell was food. It permeated everywhere. And it was all different cuisines; from Asian to French, Mediterranean to Middle Eastern, Italian and Mexican/Spanish. I laughed to myself at how over-the-top–circus like–the whole event had become.

I must have closed my eyes while I listened over and over again from all the chefs about their menu options.

You already know though
You only live once: that's the motto…

"Bella?"

We bout it every day, every day, every day…

The voice was a little louder the second time, plus it coincided with a jab to my ribs. "Bella?"

"What!"

Rose smiled at everyone else. "Are you singing Drake?" she whispered.

What was I going to say? Admit it or not.

"Ummm…Yes?"

She pulled me off to the side of the room, while the Italian chef was conversing with Esme in a language I completely did not comprehend. I guess Rose figured we didn't need to be in attendance for that one.

"What is wrong with you?"

Did she really know what she was asking me? I could have given her a whole laundry list–starting with all of this madness. But I thought it best to keep up appearances, if for nothing else than their peace of mind and my immediate questionable sanity.

"I am just tired…and stressed and really hungry. Given the fact that all this food is here and no one will even let me try anything is just…wrong." It was true. I had my hand slapped back from the table a total of three times and was handed a bottle of water.

"Well Esme thought that we shouldn't let you eat a whole lot because then you'll gain some weight and then your fitting will be off…" Rose started waving her arms around like all of this was to be understood.

Not. By. Me.

"Does she think I'm fat?"

Rose rolled her eyes at me. I realized she did that a lot–like all the time.

"I didn't say that."

"Yeah, you sort of did."

"You're acting like a child, Bella."

"I am not."

"Says the one singing Drake."

Shaking my head, I said, "It was more like quoting. Singing would mean that I knew all the words–which I don't–where I was only saying the most significant part that was pertinent to me."

"Do you hear yourself…seriously?" I know they all worried about me, especially after the head trauma I suffered, and I do seem to, at times, revert back a few years to my immature teen self. It happens a lot when I am stressed. Like now.

"I never really got the song until now. It has meaning to me now." I rolled my eyes sensing the condescending tone and eye roll coming forth. "Just drop it."

I walked back to the others, but not before smiling at my sister and singing softly, "You already know though. You only live once: that's the motto…"

That day, no other song had more importance.